


Hello My Old Heart

by RockerRema13



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bones Whump, Bones is a dad, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic, M/M, Miscommunication, Vulcan child, euthanasia mentioned, songfic sorta, these boys are trying real hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-07-16 07:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16081544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockerRema13/pseuds/RockerRema13
Summary: Three things Leonard knows he's good at: practicing medicine, handling children, singing the classics.One thing Leonard knows he's not good at: relationships.Or,Leonard's new relationship with Jim and Spock is falling apart around him. He more or less expected that. Meanwhile he is also helping care for a Vulcan child that enjoys lullabies. He did not expect that.





	1. Somewhere over the rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> This can take place after Into Darkness or Beyond, but neither will be addressed.  
> This will definitely contain my headcanons for Bones background and characterization (me? project on my faves? Always).  
> I love the tropes of sad dad Bones taking care of Vulcan kids and this is my contribution.

Right now, Leonard McCoy cannot recount how long he has been awake, nor how long he has been working. Time does strange things when he ignores it, and even more so when emergencies pull him in. This particular shift, the first calm after the storm, is just starting and the few hours before only granted small snatches of sleep.

He is tired right down to his bones and only functioning because of a combination of coffee, stim shots, and sheer stubborn will. All he wants is for an uneventful but busy double shift so he has something to keep him occupied. What he does not need is his wired up idiot of a captain barging through three hours in and demanding his attention.

Unfortunately for him, Jim Kirk is as much a stubborn asshole as he is. And very good at grating on Leonard's last nerves.

“Bones, c’mon, I've heard you in the shower, I know you can! Just one night. Battle in the rec room. You and me! We need to beat Scotty and Chekov! You're not even supposed to work beta shift. I know, I asked Spock!”

Leonard really wishes he drank more coffee this morning.

“No, Jim,” feels like deja vu every time he says it. “Pulling shifts don’t mean I can fuck off to the rec room whenever, and M’Benga needed to pass the hell out more than me. Go ask Uhura, she's actually good at singing.”

“The kids like her too much. Already have her as a judge on account of being the greatest or whatever.”

There's a sullen tone in Jim's voice and without even looking up from his PADD, Leonard knows Jim has his arms crossed like the petulant man-child he claims he's not.

“And how are you taking that?”

“Bones,” if possible he sounds even more put out. 

“Ask Spock to join you.”

“Do you really think he'd say yes?” Incredulous and exasperated hand movements catch the corner of Leonard's peripheral. “Singing the latest pop music in a passionate competition taking place in a crowded rec room, where I aim to win. Really?”

 _You think I'd enjoy the embarrassment,_ Leonard asks himself, because apparently Jim does think that or doesn't care, but instead he says, “So, he already said no.” The image alone, Spock nonchalantly denying Jim, using his insufferably charming dry wit to shoot down every word their captain says, brings a warm smile to his face.

“You're awful, you know that? Completely unsympathetic to my charitable cause. It's for the children, Bones.”

His smile is immediately wiped clean off his face. Of course he knows it's for the children.

The reason why he's so tired, why M’Benga is dead asleep, why everyone on board this starship is coming down from an adrenaline rush, why Jim Kirk has become more of an unstoppable force - children in need.

They were summoned by a distress signal, two days ago - and by god, how can it only be that short a time - to a transport ship that had left a research facility stationed on a small Federation colony. It had held a handful of adults, mostly security and scientists, and an entire class worth of children leaving for a short two week long field trip to the closest civilian starbase. When the Enterprise arrived what was found was a hunk of metal floating in space, a section of the back hull torn and exposed due to a malfunction of sorts, what looked like an explosion, to Leonard.

He still shudders at the image, at the thought of what that must have been like. One moment everything is fine, and the next - the next moment you've either burned to ash or you're sucked out into the cold of space, nothing to breathe or grasp at, or you're not aware of anything beyond blaring alarms and flashing lights and panic.

With barely enough power for life support in the remaining sectors, let alone for periodic distress signals, the survivors of the ship - only a few adults and majority of the children - were lucky. Or graced by some cruel god, or just very very unfortunate. Leonard is long past trying to find meaning in senseless pain and suffering, especially out here in the black. What happens, happens, and the best they can do is move forward. But what he does know and trust is their capability to help others. In his own skills to at least physically put them all back together, keep death at bay just a little longer.

So now, heading towards the nearby fully equipped starbase, the Enterprise escorts, entertains, and is caring for precious passengers. The children on board range from pre- teen to young teenager, Human to Vulcan to Andorian, and all of them vastly interested in being on a bonafide starship (The Esteemed Enterprise, Jim reminds them with performative flair) for the first time. The overflow patient room next door was even temporarily transformed into a large sleeping area for them, as it already held many beds.

It was an addition Leonard insisted on during the Enterprises’ rebuild, for spill over patients when the main area got too hectic. An all too often occurrence that is just their reality now. And he's glad he pushed for it now. Lord knows what they would've done. Probably use the nurse barracks. Another addition Leonard demanded. They wouldn't have complained either way.

Kids are surprisingly sturdy like that. At least, when in the middle of traumatic events and daring rescues and dashing starship transports.

It's a good distraction for now, and the crew wholeheartedly goes along to ensure all children are tended to, even teaching a bit to those old enough to be interested. Or, as the case is now, putting on grand shows in the recreational rooms. Jim had taken these events very seriously. Leonard knows this, had seen the determined set to Jim's chin when the children were brought to medbay, and Leonard also knows Jim very much aims to do right by them. That he can’t really resist it.

Though, apparently, they're all smitten by Uhura. Leonard can understand that.

“I know it is, Jimbo.” He tries not to think about the looks on the kids’ faces as the crew brought them through to medbay, a mixture of shock and uncomprehending loss, just going through the motions because that’s all they could do without falling apart. Leonard understands that, too. “But some of us got work to--”

“Do you think Chapel could take over--”

“Leave my workers be,” Leonard puts a stop to that line of thought, his tone a bit more harsh and snappish than intended. He blames the lack of sleep, but doesn't regret it much when he gets results. “I need them to be here. In my sickbay for the sick. With me.” When he finally looks at Jim, he sees he was right about the pouting, and also thanks whatever powers that be that Jim hadn't pulled out the Big Blues. Taking a quick cursory glance, he notes no obvious ailments. Leonard raises an eyebrow and continues with the same hard tone, hoping Jim will understand. “You know we've been up to our eyeballs in here, a few of em are still recovering. Those closest to the disaster will be on bed rest well after we make it to the station, and some of the kids are beginning to show signs of the shock wearing off.”

Nightmares, he doesn’t say. Screaming nightmares that wake the others up and have an on duty medical personnel come running. He's sure Doctor Dehner has been talking with them. A barely concealed grimace crosses Jim's face as Leonard tries to drive home his point.

“Now I know you're doing right by them and all, but unless you need a good hypo from one of us...?”

“Alright, alright! You've made yourself perfectly clear.” No matter how soft a center the doctor has, his hands are quick and brutal enough to make one think twice. By now, Jim knows not to push it. “I'll ask Sulu, then. Maybe he's not adverse to fun.”

“That's nice, now go back to the bridge, _Captain,_ you're supposed to be on duty.” Leonard turns back to his report, trying not to strain his eyes rolling them. He should know better by now, though. Turning your back on Jim Kirk is always a bad idea.

“And, Bones?”

He hears the call a few feet away and stops himself from sighing, “Yes, Ji--”

There is a brief, soft press of chapped lips against the corner of his mouth and all Leonard can see are bright blue, sharp eyes that always manage to cut right through him. Dark bruising circles show right under Jim's eyes, along with the beginning signs of laugh lines at the corners. His tan skin is less so away from the Terran sun for so long, and Len thinks it won't be long before grey hairs start to grow in. Despite all that, Jim is as beautiful as ever and Len feels his breath catch in his chest as an exhale stops short. Something uncomfortable and tight constricts right above his sternum. There's a surprised jolt to his nerves, it locks his spine straight, clamps his mouth shut, and urges him to step back.

Leonard doesn't move a muscle as he stares back into unfathomable blue depths.

Jim, as usual, is the quick one. He must see the tension between them and extracts himself, a flicker of concern or confusion or insult in the twitch of his lopsided smile that falls short of convincing. “You're doing right good, too, you know. Just don't... please don't run yourself to the ground.”

An automatic denial, maybe even an apology, is on the tip of Leonard's tongue, that he is fine, everything is fine, they're fine, but a narrowing of Jim’s eyes has him saying, “Yeah, okay. Ain't no ground out here, anyway.”

A moment passes as Leonard feels himself being evaluated. Jim looks right through him and to the mounting weight of the last several minutes, the last several days - weeks, really, it's been going on for weeks - but then the edges of Jim's posture relax, like he's humoring Len. Letting him off the hook.

“If you say so, Bones.”

He moves away, walking backward right out of medbay and never breaking eye contact. The different lights cast shadows across his face as he leaves, throwing his expression between normal playfulness and an increasingly common strained note, something deeper lurking behind his smile. His gaze holds Leonard in place until he’s out, sending a wink as the door slides closed, breaking the spell.

“Thanks for the save,” comes from his side, nearly causing him to jump. Each syllable is lined with relief and exhaustion. “But I can do without the PDA.”

Honestly, he could've done without it, too. Jim knows on duty medbay hours are off limits. But that is not the problem.

Leonard is...well, he's frustrated and tense and wants to be left alone. He's hiding and that was Jim, disregarding everything Len puts up, seeking him out. But Leonard doesn't know what Jim found in his expression, what he found inside him. Len isn't even sure why he's hiding it all away in the first place. He should be able to discuss his troubles, his worries, whatever the fuck this is with his... boyfriend. Friend. Captain. No matter what they may be, but this....

Passing the PADD to Christine, and taking her teasing in stride, he breathes in deep.

Jim means well, he always does, especially with kids involved, but sometimes that man pushes too much. Hyper-focuses on certain details, certain bigger pictures, that other pieces get lost in the mix. He sees when things are off, follows his instincts that something is not right and then there is no derailing him. Not until he either uncovers the truth or gets close enough to know he shouldn't interfere.

The latter does not happen very often.

In Jim's defense, Leonard can't help but counter himself, they are both running on fumes. This week's latest space disaster had them awake and working for the past sixty hours, only snatches of sleep possible. Even then Leonard spent that time across the hall in the medical barracks on an uncomfortable single bed. He is also certain Spock hasn't had a proper meditation session in that long either. Between the initial distress call, preparing for the unknown amount of damage they would undertake, working through the emergency, and ensuring the aftermath passes as smoothly as possible, and all his shit before that - Leonard isn't sure when the last time he ate dinner with them was, let alone slept in the same bed, had an intimate or relaxing evening together.

Reports need to be made and filed, Command notified, autopsies performed, communications made to the facility and families and that wasn't even getting into the discussion on what’s to come for the now traumatized children. The adrenaline fueled action of lives on the line may have settled, but the fallout is always just as harrowing.

Also, Leonard commiserates, he is hiding.

He's using this real tragedy as an excuse to avoid Captain and Commander, and Jim knows that. They roomed together at the Academy, shared an apartment, and currently more often than not share a bed and shower. There is no doubt that Jim sees something amiss and is instead grabbing onto whatever unrelated detail he can to drag Leonard out. He knows Len can sing and is being his obnoxious self to use it to his advantage.

Why Jim doesn't come out and confront the actual problem, bring Len a bottle of moonshine, he doesn't know. It's what Jim usually does.

Len thinks he'd much rather have the locally engineered alcohol than this weird cat and mouse bullshit.

Maybe Spock will come by next to drag him out. Take Jim's advise and admit to hearing Len sing from the shower, then weave together some bullshit logic that boils down to Leonard needing to embarrass himself in front of everyone.

Giving his head nurse a side eye as she busies herself, he's certain she heard him humming during work, too. Thank goodness she isn't pushing him out that door. Smart, loyal head nurse. He can always count on Chapel.

It's not about the singing, except it kind of is about the singing.

Part of the issue as well, he's only partially willing to consider, is if he admits aloud that he can sing a few songs, play a few tunes on the piano or guitar, then it would lead to actually performing. In front of others. In front of the crew he spends every damn day with and will spend several more years with stuck inside a flying tin can in the cold void of space. It'll encourage Jim to pull him in again and again. Aside from being a mighty fine doctor and researcher, Leonard isn't one to put on a show for others.

It makes his skin itch and burn more than a damn rash and he hates it.

His grandmother blames the stubborn McCoy pride, and with his track record, Leonard can't disagree.

Looking about the medbay, he notes its activity is finally at a level of calm. Several patients with severe burns rest in a self contained intensive care area. An ensign with a fractured ulna is in a bed, listening to the instructions from Chapel. The normalcy of it all settles like a comfortable blanket around Leonard's shoulders.

Though it also doesn't stop Leonard grumbling to himself when he decides to finish his document work in his office. It’s finally a slow enough shift that he should catch up with some of it, and sure, it’s not spending an evening with friends or Jim and Spock, but it still needs to get done and the prospect of doing autopsies right off the bat isn’t something he would look forward to.

*

An unknown amount of time has passed, possibly a few hours, when Leonard stretches his cramped muscles and pops his vertebrae back into place. The true telling of age, of his body getting old, though he's had joint problems since his early twenties. Jim's always joking that Leonard has been an old man since college, having seen the holopics his grandmother had of him, an early version of his trademark scowl at its beginnings.

His stomach rumbles idly and Len wonders if he had breakfast earlier. Does coffee count? Probably not. Is it too late for lunch? Too early for dinner? There's always quick replicator meals, but the thought of trying to decide on what fake food to choose and going through the motions of actually eating sound more tiresome than the paperwork he just finished. As a compromise, he shoots off one of his nutrient boosters into his thigh and quickly swallows down a granola bar from the stash he knows Chapel refills because she thinks Leonard has a _workaholic problem._

She's not wrong, and he knows that and still hates it.

A press of a desk button switches a section of his office wall from opaque to transparent, viewing the activity of his medbay, or really, the lack thereof. The ensign from earlier is gone, the burn patients’ vitals read on a screen still steady in their sleep. There's no sign of Chapel, but when he thinks about it, Leonard is sure she stepped in to tell him of her departure. Beta shift probably started.

The karaoke battle is probably done with, but knowing Jim there are several other activities he has lined up for the kids before and after dinner. Leonard is sure Jim would have them back for bed, though when that would be is anyone's guess. In the meantime, having his back ache at his desk isn't helping anyone, so the good doctor steps out for a quick round of his patients.

It feels like it was all going back to normal now - well, about as normal as it can get. Leonard's blood pressure isn't through the roof and no one is actively dying. Just a quiet lull in the restless peace after the chaos where everyone tries to find their equilibrium again. Tries to keep on living.

Sitting alone in his office, everything sated, he thinks, _yeah, it's pretty normal for now._

*

He can’t put it off forever. It needs to get it done and he needs to do it. They deserve as much, anyway. At least, that's what his professional platitudes tell himself. And because he's an argumentative bastard he tells himself that they also deserve proper mourning and rest.

The doctor in him says he's got work that needs doing.

The asshole part of him says it's for convenience's sake, so he doesn't have to see Jim and Spock when they put the kids to bed, so he can stave off thoughts of being in his own bed.

It's obvious which part of his brain Leonard prefers to listen to.

There he has been for the past two hours - standing in a closed off medical ward in low temperatures with a list of the dead. A sleek shiny table and newly cleaned and freshly sterilized instruments lay before him. It is a place everyone knows not to interrupt.

Autopsies were easier to get through when one thought of the necessary steps and measurements in only a methodical and medical sense. Make the correct assessments, the precise cuts, the diagnoses, ensure it all added up to _‘goddamn awful space incident’ ,_ and don't think about the fact that the name attached to the procedure matches the previous one, and they both match the twelve year old child sleeping in the other room.

Report the cause of death, the injuries, the marks, but don't think about how painful it must've been for them.

Don't think about how small the next body is. Or the next one, or the next one.

Don't think about how dull the dark curls on one's head are, or how vibrant they must have been when she was alive.

Don't think about the way her laughter would have sounded as she ran with exerted joy, as she smiled with full display of her gapped front teeth, as she sat on the back porch and told incomprehensible stories about the stars, excited for her first shuttle trip...

 _You're the CMO of the Enterprise,_ Leonard tells himself with a deep breath, _fucking act like it._

*

Len is sure beta is close to finishing when he finally walks back out into the empty main medbay area. The smell of cold air and preserved decay cling to him, only slightly washed away from the brief cleaning in the medical sonic showers. His back aches from leaning over the tables and reminding himself to stand straight. He so badly wants to sleep, but there's always the prospect of his dreams being lined with stiff bodies of dead children, of brown curly hair and dull blue eyes and-

Leonard rubs the memories from his eyes. Everything is just as he left it.

Except for the muffled sound of short, wet breathing. He's not sure what that is, if not an auditory hallucination from the fatigue.

A quick cursory glance around medbay shows no obvious source. There’s the undercurrent hum of functioning medical equipment, the buzzing of the lights above, the press of a PADD in the inventory closet from a nurse. The vitals on screen show no change. Nothing is out of place.

On a hunch he makes the short stride toward the dimly lit ICU ward and Leonard finds his source. A form sitting on a chair beside one of the beds.

Later, when he has the decency to feel anything besides bone deep exhaustion, the doctor will scold himself right.

Right now, what pops out of his mouth at the sight of someone inside the restricted area is, “You're not supposed to be in here.”

The noise stops at once and the figure goes so still Leonard doesn't even register they were quivering to begin with.

“My apologies,” is the quiet reply in Standard, like they're being courteous for the folks who wouldn't be waking up any time soon. “I wished to visit for a short time. There was no one available for permission, but I know I would do no harm if I respected protocols and did not disturb them.”

When the person walks into the doorway’s light, Leonard can clearly see who the visitor is. 

And god dammit, he's a doctor, not a babysitter.

At the kid's confession, Leonard shifts out of the way for the child to come out, pointedly looking in the direction of Nurse Torres as they do inventory.

“It did not seem prudent to interrupt a medical professional's duty. I did not believe I was causing harm.”

He looks down at the child, satisfied that they caught his meaning and had enough sense to look contrite. Well, as much as a Vulcan child can, anyway.

And there was no doubt about that. Not with the way a shade of green lightly prickles along their cheeks, the way they try to stand straighter but avoid Leonard's raised brow eye contact. He can't quite see the little pointed ears, though, a curtain of black hair falling past their shoulders.

The fact that the child was sitting beside the lone Vulcan patient in the ICU ward can draw some clear conclusions. He recalls the file Geoff worked so diligently on, the patient he ensured would pull through: thirty-five Terran years old female, suffering from severe third degree burns charing through the dermis to the muscle underneath, especially focal on her hands, wrists, arms, and left side of her face, chin to temple. The reports state she was one of the closest survivors to the incident. Briefings from the conscious adults and older teenagers say she quickly closed off the section of the ship, locking several hallways and doors that the emergency protocols didn't set off. The roster listed her as T’Yanu, agricultural biologist of the research facility and lone parent of a five Terran years old Vulcan son.

The child standing before Leonard right now, in replicator made tiny sized pajamas, if his eyes don’t deceive him.

Letting out an audible, exasperated sigh, the good doctor sinks himself down into a nearby chair, his knees cracking with a wince. “Listen, son, I know-”

“Sunyk.”

“Pardon?”

“My name is Sunyk.”

Leonard pauses to stare at the kid that stares back. “It’s a Human term.” 

“Sunyk?”

“What? No, no. I mean, ‘son’. It’s a term of endearment for someone younger.”

“Oh,” and ain’t that the strangest thing, a Vulcan using something as human as filler words. The boy shifts his head at a slight angle, cocking it to the side as his eyes remain on Leonard. “I am endearing?”

Well, shit. Now the kid’s just being cute.

“Yeah, I’d say you’re endearing. You’re a kid sneaking out of bed to sit with his healing mother. That shi- stuff is kinda endearing. To me at least.”

There’s more blank faced staring. Leonard crosses his arms and leans back in the chair - probably Chapel’s, now that he feels how comfortable it is. And man, is it going to be hard to stand again from this.

“But you do not know who I am.” 

“You’re Sunyk. The little Vulcan kiddo.” 

“I do not know who you are.”

Leonard can’t help the rumbling chuckle at that, “Well alright, I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy. The chief officer of all of this.” One of his hands casually presents the medbay around them before coming to a stop beside his own head, palm outward towards Sunyk. “I can’t really do the whole salute thing, but it’s a pleasure to meet you all the same.”

Sunyk chooses each word carefully, a question more than a statement, “You are not upset.”

“No, son. I ain’t upset. Though you should definitely notify someone if you’re going in there. Or coming in here at all, actually.”

“Even if you are working...?”

“Well, if there’s no emergency happening, sure. Just come on in and let me know.” At Sunyk’s slightly furrowed thin eyebrows, a signal Leonard learned to mean dubious, he continues softly. “It’s alright to want to sit by her, you know. She may be in a healing trance, but she’s still there. Your mama knows you’re here, too.”

The furrow creases more, “But she does not. She has closed me off. I cannot feel or hear her. I cannot let her know that I am here, that we are safe. Ever since the incident I have lost our connection! She was hurt. I couldn't wake her up or help her and now--! Now I don't--! Why would she--?”

At the slight rising of his pitch, of the green flush getting deeper, Leonard leans forward, not even thinking twice when his hands reach out and gently smooth up and down Sunyk’s arms. “Hey now, hey now. It’s gonna be alright. It's gonna be okay. Listen, now, Sunyk, okay. I don’t know much about Vulcan telepathy, but I am a doctor and a damn good one. She’ll pull through this just fine, but she’s been hurt pretty bad.”

“Third degree burns,” is the soft interruption, considerably less wet sounding. Good, no chance of more crying. Leonard doesn’t even care that the kid read his own mother’s medical report.

“That’s right. Right now is a strenuous time for her, both body and mind. That incident must not’ve been easy to get through. So, she’s healing herself and we’re helping her along. Now, that may mean that there’s a, uh, a wall, maybe. Or a closed door. She’s your mother, and I know mom’s can be really protective of their younguns, so while she’s hurt she doesn’t want you to feel that hurt. She’s protecting you.”

Dear god, Leonard hopes this is working. He’s putting as much sincerity and compassion as he can into these words and he hopes he’s not just pulling bullshit out of the air and making it all worse.

“But it has been seventy five hours.”

Had it really been over three days for them? Jesus.

“These things take time, you gotta trust me here. I'll do my absolute best to ensure your mama comes through, but right now? You gotta be patient, okay?”

There’s a long pause as Sunyk composes himself, taking a deep breath and smoothing out his facial muscles once more. A light dusting of green is still on his nose.

At no immediate sign of potential outburst, Leonard begins to retract his hands. Vulcan customs be damned, the kid needed comfort. Considering he was on the brink of crying his eyes out, of course Leonard helped.

“I must be patient. I understand...”

Leonard senses that there’s more. A brief moment occurs where Sunyk tugs on his lower lip, looking up near pleading with dark eyes.

“Am I also required to be amongst the others at all times?”

Ah, that's it. The kid doesn't want to hang out with his classmates. Granted, they're all twice his age and have gone through some tough shit, so that's understandable.

“What, don't want to go to another rec room activity?”

Sunyk gives a spectacular version of a frown without actually moving his lips.

“They are very loud with their emotions. It is usually tolerable and well received, but right now...” he trails off, unsure what words to use. “My mother was always there to assist me with their projections, with what they mean. She has been with human companions for years and knows of their unique qualities...”

Ain't that a nice way to put it. Spock could learn a thing or two here.

“They're going through a lot right now, too. Same as you. Like I said, this ain't an easy time.” 

“I understand, however...”

He's stalling, Leonard can tell. In the minute shifts in Sunyk’s stance as he sways between stepping closer and staying where he is, in the way he looks over Leonard's shoulder and not at his face.

“C’mon, son, let it out.”

“During sleep their emotions are even more erratic and cause interruptions in my own rest. If it were possible to meditate here during that time, I’d greatly appreciate the allowance.”

Now that’s certainly a problem. Scratching at his scruffy chin, Leonard voices his thoughts aloud, “Well during your stay here you’re gonna need to rest more than simply meditatin’ will give ya. However, I can’t be allowing you here unsupervised, especially for sleeping.” Leonard takes a moment to stand with some effort, feeling his legs protest.

Sunyk steps back to allow him the space and opens his mouth, most certainly to further explain why he needs to be here rather than in the patient overflow turned child campout.

Before he can start, Leonard raises a placating hand with a gentle, “Hold on,” to make the child pause. “The third option, and probably the best for you gettin’ actual sleep, is the barracks across the hall.”

He walks towards the medbay doors, only stopping briefly at the inventory closet to let Torres know where he’d be and with whom should anyone ask. With Sunyk right behind him, Leonard presents the additional sleeping and break room for his medical staff. A few simple beds barely higher quality than cots were on the left side of the room, on the right a circular table, chairs, and kitchenette with replicator. As Leonard motions his hand towards the beds, one of them clearly recently used, he makes his way towards the back wall ahead where he knows the closet contains numerous blankets and pillows.

“I’ve been stayin’ here during the emergency, so you can take the one next to mine. I know ya’ll like it warm, but since these beds ain’t temp controlled, a mound of blankets will have to do.” He sets an additional two blankets beside Sunyk on the bed he’d chosen, right behind Leonard’s, parallel to the wall. The kid’s legs don’t even reach the edge of the bed properly when he sits primly with his back against the wall.

“Thank you, Doctor McCoy,” Sunyk says, voice barely a whisper in the much quieter room. He grasps onto the thick blankets and runs his fingers over the material as he pulls them over himself. “You are correct that this is the best option.”

“Glad you agree.” Leonard glances at the time, a little over an hour left on his shift. “Now, get some rest, okay?”

“Will you not be staying?”

At the sudden question, Leonard pauses. Sunyk leans forward from his spot. His legs dangle more so over the bed, socked feet inching off, as if to follow should Leonard leave.

When Leonard doesn’t reply quick enough, Sunyk pushes himself back, hasty with his words again. “Of course not, I apologize. You must still be on duty. I have already wasted enough of your--”

“Nah,” he stops the kid’s stream of words. “If they need me, they know where to find me. In the meantime, let’s get some warm tea, hmm?”

“That...” Sunyk takes a deep breath and collects himself, genuinely relaxed as opposed to moments ago. “That would be agreeable. Thank you.”

Agreeable? Leonard gives an soft snort at the Vulcan vernacular. The noise turns into a yawn as he shuffles over to the replicator, ordering two cups of chamomile tea.

So, Spock got him hooked on it - sue him.

After handing Sunyk his mug and collapsing back onto his own bed, Leonard stubbornly doesn’t think about how his own sleeping arrangements were very much temporary. That his self imposed exile from his own sleeping quarters - both in Jim’s large Captain’s bed and his own decently sized CMO one - can’t last forever. He’d have to face Jim and Spock sometime. Most likely sooner than later.

But, damn it, he’s tired. Tired and irritable and restless, and too full of _something_ to be able to comfortably lay in bed with them.

All through the hours of trauma triage and surgeries Leonard could only will himself to pass out on this bed before waking up several hours later and continuing his work. The thought of going to a luxurious bed with two wonderfully brilliant partners alive and waiting for him - it made his muscles jittery. Like there was still so much left to do and there was no decency in him going back there yet for real rest, because what if he was needed here? What if one of the ICU patients started crashing? What if one of the survivors had a hidden ailment that showed itself, suddenly and violently? What if it was one of the children?

Anything could happen during crises, especially during recoveries, and Leonard couldn’t be caught unawares.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

“You are upset,” Sunyk’s voice breaks through Leonard’s downward spiral of thoughts. “If staying here is a burden then please, do not feel obligated to-”

“Obligated, shmoglibated.” Leonard stands with a sigh, finishing the dregs of his now lukewarm tea to take his cup to the recycler.

“I. Don’t understand.” Sunyk blinks blankly up at Leonard as he offers his empty mug.

He’s supposed to be helping calm the kid, help him rest, but here he is thinking about depressing shit he’s going to have to deal with later that he doesn’t even want to think about it now.

 _Don’t be such a buzzkill,_ Bones, says a voice inside him that sounds a lot like Jim. 

_Vulcan children are highly susceptible to the emotions of others around them,_ says  
Spock, just this side of condescending. _It would be prudent to control yourself, Leonard._

Goddamn nuisances whether they're around or not.

“I’m sayin’ I wanna stay, and that’s that. Lights, fifty percent.” Leonard’s head hits the pillow soon after. “Now, go to sleep. No meditatin’ or yoga or what have you.” There’s a moment’s pause where Leonard can just feel the kid about to say something about it, but without even looking up, he gives a gentle shushing. “Sleep.”

After a minute of rustling around, Sunyk seems to settle down. From the sound of his controlled, deep breaths, Leonard guesses that he moved his pillow closer to where Leonard rests his own head. And shit, since when does he take lost little Vulcans under his wing? Since when do they ask him to stay?

Leonard catches himself before his thoughts can continue down.

“Are you certain meditation would not be more beneficial?” Comes the question from across the several foot gap, quiet and muffled in the semi-dark. “Because I am not finding sleep to be easy.”

“Have you tried closing your eyes?”

“My eyes are closed.”

“How bout turnin’ off that busy brain of yours?”

“Doctor McCoy,” this time his voice has a flatter tone, done with Leonard’s nonsense.

“I'm serious, Starfleet scout’s honor.” There's a moment of silence where he's sure Sunyk is mulling that over in doubt. “What helps you fall asleep, hmm?”

“Warm tea.”

“We had that.”

“My stuffed sehlat.”

Okay, Leonard has no idea what that is. “Anything I can help with right now?”

A contemplative moment passes. Leonard can hear the kid open and close his mouth several times in hesitation.

“C'mon, son. Can't be that bad,” he tries to coax, because honestly he's exhausted and anything to help get them towards Sleepville is worth it.

“My mother,” he starts, still hesitant, “used to sing to me, at times, when I had difficulty sleeping. Through our bond she would offer soothing sounds.” Sunyk quickly adds, “But you are not obligated to--”

“If ya wanted a lullaby all you gotta do is ask,” because this kid really does trip over himself to not seem like a burden. And he's not, of course he's not. Leonard just needs to keep reminding him of that.

“That is....agreeable to you?”

Sitting up with a sigh, Leonard leans back against the wall and makes himself comfortable. “Course it is, now c’mere and lay. It won't be as good as your mama’s, but I know a few lullabies.”

Surprisingly, Sunyk doesn't need to be told twice. Scrambling off the bed, two blankets still wrapped around him and a pillow clutched in his hand, the kid crawls on and curls up. Like he'd been waiting for this chance all night but didn't know how to ask. He finally settles in with the pillow against Leonard's thigh and blankets dwarfing him to a smaller size than he already is.

Leonard doesn't know when he'll be able to move again, and highly doubts it'll be soon, so he bunches up his own blanket and pillow to his other side, a fluffy mound to lean into that will hopefully prevent a majority of the cramps he'll have in the morning. His other arm is thrown across Sunyk’s pile.

“Good?” He gets a muffled confirmation. “Alrighty, then.”

 _It's been awhile,_ are his first thoughts when he starts off. The vibrating hum is deep and low, straight from his throat before forming into words. It compliments the stillness of the quasi-dark room and muted starship in mid-gamma shift. It aims to be a soothing backdrop and Leonard focuses on that more so than the words. He really doesn't need to recall the lyrics anyway, as they all fall off his tongue as easy as molasses.

_“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high...”_

His own mother always came to mind when he sings this. The memories are distant, fuzzy around the edges of how they begin and end. Pieces are missing and distorted with the long years passed. She had always loved the pleasant classic, the way the ukulele compliments the vocals.

_“And the dreams that you dream of, once in a lullaby...”_

Leonard can still hear her. When his memory jumpstarts and he can smell the old large estate, feel the hot Georgia winds, and hear her singing along. She's in the kitchen in the morning with a frying pan in hand or out in barn come afternoon for the horses’ grooming or she's beside his bed at night ready to tuck him in. She was always off key, but what she lacked in melody she made up for in beautiful instrumentals, that Leonard remembers clear. Her voice couldn't quite hit the low notes of this lullaby, but her string work was always soft and gentle as she lulled him to sleep.

_“Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly and the dreams that you dream of...”_

The fact that he can sing it now without choking, near decades after she’s gone is testament enough to how much he has changed. To how much time has passed and how many times his life has been rewritten. Because he does love humming this one in particular.

_“Where trouble melts like lemon drops, high above the chimney top, that's where you'll find me...”_

Leonard knows he isn't the same beanpole of a teenager he was back when she was alive, having finally grown into his own, if a bit chipped and damaged. But despite all that, sometimes he wonders and hopes if his Ma would recognize him now, if she would be proud of who he's become.

_“I watch them bloom for me and you, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world...”_

On some days he thinks she would.

On other days, he isn't so sure. The days after her funeral...

_“I see skies of blue and clouds of white, the brightness of day and I like the dark... ”_

...the days when Pa was sick, between working and caring for him and baby Jo, the days after his funeral...

_“I see friends shaking hands, how do you do, they're really say I love you...”_

...the days when his and Joce’s marriage were falling apart around them, the arguing and the  
fighting, and the cold silences...

 _“I hear babies cry and I watch them grow, they'll learn more than we'll ever know...”_

...the days when Joanna...

_“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world... ”_

Leonard's breath hitches at the thoughts of his little girl, the song feeling more like a prayer for the first time in a long time. He breathes in deep, finds a calm and becomes aware of the stillness in the room. He glances down at the child curled against him sleeping. Neither his turbulent thoughts or emotions seem to have reached Sunyk, thankfully.

And as he slouches against the comforter and pillow, he also realizes that the itch to keep moving is no longer there. The gnawing anxiety of _what if_ now a dull background static. After many hours of vigilance and caution, Leonard feels like he can finally get a dreamless night's sleep.


	2. Skinny Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall sorry this took so long! It felt like a monster to write but i hope you enjoy it. Thank you all for reading, kudos, and commenting!
> 
> Notes: This chapter has alternating POVs. I thought itd be interesting to show different perspectives on the same situation, especially with Leonard's own view being rather....tinted via his depression and self loathing and rough time. Also, stuffing several parallel themes into each chapter is like a juggling act, so I hope yall enjoy it! 
> 
> song: skinny love by bon iver

Dr. Elizabeth Dehner doesn’t usually take alpha shifts, her specializations of multi- species psychiatry, counseling, and pharmacy suited her schedule best to where and when she is needed. 

For example, as of now, she is very much needed as the liaison and inevitable mental and emotional confidant of the Enterprise's latest rescue. This meant she spends a majority of her time with the surviving adults and children as they are set with an appropriate schedule she herself had helped make until they reach their destination. To keep everyone on track, Elizabeth starts her day with the children, and ensuring the ensigns assigned to the group are established. She also makes note if anyone needs one on one time with her. 

Now, imagine her surprise when she enters the medbay and before she can even get her plans underway she's told by Nurse Torres that the one Vulcan child on board had found a new place to sleep. 

“Did he have any problems?” Elizabeth asks as they make their way back out and towards the barracks.

“Seemed so. Doc McCoy found him in ICU with his mama and talked with him for a bit. Told me he was setting the kid up in here for some quiet.”

“I see,” she would need to get the full report from Doctor McCoy, though she does not doubt he handled the situation as he saw best. Upon opening the nurse barrack door and taking in the immediate scene, she pauses, “I see.”

Sunyk sits upon a bed, dressed and seemingly ready for the day's activities with a learning PADD in his lap. The surreal additions to this scene are the mound of blankets spread around him and under them, fast asleep and curled behind him - Doctor McCoy.

“Hello, Sunyk,” Elizabeth greets.

“Hello, Doctor Dehner,” Sunyk responds, voice above a hush.

“Did you sleep in here?” She already knows the answer, but always prefers to hear it from the source.

“Yes.”

“And you slept well?”

“Indeed. Doctor McCoy was very hospitable to ensure I was most at ease. Although, I do suspect he will have cramps when he wakes up. This is a very odd angle to sleep in.”

“You mean he slept here? Like that?” Torres asks, swiping their own PADD on. 

As Sunyk looks down at McCoy, Elizabeth notes the green tinge overtaking his cheeks and that the child had been grasping onto McCoy’s hand this entire time.

“Affirmative,” Sunyk mulls for a moment before continuing, “I had difficulty going to sleep and Doctor McCoy allowed me in here. He sang me a lullaby as assistance.”

_Interesting,_ Elizabeth thinks, wondering if the bag under the occupied bed belonged to McCoy, if he had been camping out in here the last few days. _Perhaps I should have a talk with him later, too._

“Oh my gods, that's freaking precious,” Torres fiercely whispers to themself, snapping a few pictures on their PADD. 

“Can you let the others know I'll meet them down at the cafeteria?” Elizabeth directs towards Torres, who has enough sense to know a warning when they hear it. After they scurry out, Elizabeth gives a reassuring smile towards Sunyk. “May I have a talk with you? We'll let Doctor McCoy keep sleeping.”

“Am I in trouble?” He asks, a shadow of a pout at the corners of his mouth as he slowly let's go of McCoy's hand and quietly pads his way over. 

“No, but I would appreciate hearing what happened last night from you.” They're in the doorway when Sunyk pauses and looks back at McCoy's blanketed form. “You may visit Doctor McCoy later during recreational time, as well as your mother, if permitted.”

Giving a confirmed nod of his head, Sunyk follows her out. “It is as I had told Doctor McCoy, the other children project very loudly while asleep and I am having difficulty meditating, let alone actually sleeping when in the same room as them.”

“But you slept fine in there?” Elizabeth asks, directing them down the hall, steps at pace to match Sunyk’s.

“Yes, very adequately. Doctor McCoy was suitably accommodating.”

“Sang you a lullaby, even,” the edges of her lips threaten to upturn as she wills the image of the perpetually grumpy CMO singing a lullaby for a sleepy Vulcan child.

“Yes. Since he had found me beside my mother's bed he had been very...kind. And warm.”

“Warm?” 

A flush burns itself across Sunyk’s cheeks, “Doctor McCoy projects very loudly for a human. His emotions are constantly broadcasted, but he has a surprising hold on them, too. He can change them quickly, and while in my presence he... He was strong and secure and very warm. With my mother's connection… on pause, it has been more tumultuous than usual these last several days.”

“Doctor McCoy was comforting for you? A source of solid support and protection?”

Sunyk’s dark eyes light up at Elizabeth as he nods, “Yes! Rather large and intimidating, but still he is very comforting. He resembles a sehlet much to that regard.”

Oh, now that Elizabeth can imagine. 

*

Dear Lord, Leonard can't recall the last time he ached this badly. 

Dull knots that twist in his neck and spine turn sharp at just the wrong angle or step. He thought a good night's sleep would help him, yet here he is semi-well rested but in more pain. The only bearable part of his morning is the hot coffee. Lightened with replicator made vanilla and hazelnut cream, the artificial sugar too damn nasty to suffer through, Leonard enjoys his caffeine in quiet bliss before he has to shower and actually ready himself for the day. His next shift not till beta.

Man, does his body hate pulling doubles.

At least Sunny is up and with the rest of the kids. He hopes so, anyway. Elizabeth wouldn't let his absence slide. He'll have to talk with her later.

Leonard opts for a real water shower. The use of his reserves is an indulgent perk of being CMO, and after the last few days he goddamn deserves it. It's nice and calming in a way quick and necessary sonic showers never are. Water hits his face as he tilts his head back, mindful of the ache pulsing at the base of his skull, and he slowly turns himself around as the shower gradually warms more and more. He leans his forehead forward into a press against the smooth wall. It's surprisingly still cool, a contrast to the heat pelting his back. The cascade soon flushes his skin bright and raw, the downpour and confinement nearly grounding. 

Leonard is distantly aware of that irony while on a starship, but cannot give a damn. Only the inside of the shower exists in that moment. There is no rush and no hurry in that small space. Just the cathartic sense that just for now there is nothing else, no one else. Only him and the quiet. 

_There's Jim and Spock,_ is the intrusive thought behind his closed eyes. It rattles itself in the space where he emptied his mind. Because it's true and he knows it and there is no getting rid of that thought now that it's made itself known. He has been avoiding them, ignoring them for several days, pulling away for weeks.

_Please_ , and he doesn't know who he's pleading with, because no one else is there but himself, which doesn't bring him as much comfort as it had moments ago. 

But how can he say he's alone when there's Jim and Spock? Both of them not several minutes away if he runs fast enough, and Leonard knows he can run pretty fast. It would take no time reaching them, whether they're lounging in their private quarters or at attention on the Bridge. He'd find them. Or at least one of them, though honestly the other isn't usually far behind. 

Those two brilliant men exist here beside him, on the Enterprise, right at this moment and for many more to come. Despite their shortcomings and flaws, each man is in a league of his own, above everyone else if Leonard is being honest, though he wouldn't tell it to their already large egos. 

So, why the hell are they with him? 

They complete each other so well already. The ease of how they move around one another, how they can endlessly support and push each other forward and pull the other back. God, they're like the Terran sun and moon, opposite and complimenting and larger than life beacons everyone looked to for guidance. Jim: all ever blazing spirit, shining warmth on all those around him, and incapable of dimming himself for anything. And Spock: every bit ethereal and cool and distant at first glance, but still approachable and comforting when seeking his solid form standing tall and imposing. 

The Captain and Commander.

Everyone can see how they belong together, in any and every way, and yeah, of course Leonard sees it, too.

So much so, that it became difficult defining where one begins and the other ends and where he could even try to fit himself with them. Leonard knows himself well enough - always too prickly, too sharp and aggressive and blunt, except when he actually needed to be. He can still hear Jocelyn's voice, her accusations echoing from years ago but still ringing clear. He ran all the way into the unknown to avoid the fallout of that mess, to forget how low his rock bottom can hit.

He supposes that makes him the dirt and gravel under foot, wouldn’t it.

The dirt of a homestead gone dusty and full of weeds with nobody around to tend it, the dirt of the planet left behind for the grand exploration of space, the dirt dug up to bury your loved ones. 

Nothing at all like those two, just some heavy burden weighing them down.

_“I tell my love to wreck it all. Cut all the ropes and let me fall.”_

Ain't that something? If he can't get his head to shut up, he can at least remember the music that follows him when he's at his lowest. Whether it makes him feel better or justified in his self pity dwelling, who the fuck knows. Sad words for a sad man. 

Yeah, that's Leonard McCoy, alright.

_Later_ , he tells himself, and can't quite call it a promise, getting on with the rest of his shower instead of wasting water credits.

When they reach their destination and the children are gone and everybody is safe. When he has the time to shed light on the shadows lingering in the corners of his head. When he has the energy to withstand both their judgements. He can open up again and tell them about the sleepless nights and intrusive thoughts and the twisting in his gut every time he stops moving, stops working.

_I’ll talk to them later._

Right now he is nothing but several messy disasters stacked on top of each other in a doctor's uniform. 

Well, more like held together loosely by a towel around his waist. But he forgot his off duty clothes in his bag and his backup uniforms are in his office. So, really, the towel will have to make do in this trying time.

Wiping away the steam from the mirror, Leonard also resolves to shave his face later. The steadily growing facial hair an annoying stubble from the past few weeks worth of laziness. He hadn’t felt like getting up early to do anything about it, then emergency struck. He should at some point soon, though, now that he has time. Whenever he can get his ass into gear, because with the darkening bruises under his eyes he truly is looking like several messy disasters.

Leonard combs his fingers through his hair, deems it good enough, and sets on getting some real goddamn clothes on his bare ass.

“Hello, Leonard.”

Oh, for _fucks sake._

Leonard isn't a step out of the barracks’ bathroom when he hears him. He really should not be surprised. Standing model straight beside Leonard's cot is Spock, uniform pressed and not a hair out of place. Not at all like Leonard, dripping wet and barely modest.

That doesn't mean he's moving any closer. This feels like the makings of a trap, of a confrontation he wants to avoid until he's ready. And he ain't anywhere close to. Instead, Leonard holds his towel in place and puts his other hand on his hip, like he has every right to be how he is where he is. At the quick once over, though, he doesn't think Spock minds the view.

“Hey there, darlin’.”

The passing moments of silence would have normally been par the course between them, would have been more comfortable and at ease, but something is off. Leonard's focus narrows on Spock’s shifting weight, the way his chest inflates when he is about to say something he believes to be terribly obvious but nonetheless profound, the minute trembles of his pointed eyebrows and stone set jaw. 

He's nervous, Leonard thinks, a little suspiciously. 

The naked man wonders if he should put an end to the other's discomfort.

“Leonard, you… That is to say, I…” Spock clears his throat and straightens his stance, if at all possible. Even though his gaze never left Leonard, he still manages to zero in on him moreso. “I wish to discuss your decrease of three percent in efficiency these past ninety eight point five hours.”

The rebuttal is instant, indignant and defensive, he knows this. But, honestly, Spock, _what the hell._

“Decrease in--? My performance has not decreased, you--!” Len takes a deep breath through flared nostrils, “Excuse me for not working at optimal efficiency, Commander. But dealing with a sickbay full of dead bodies, burn patients and crying, traumatized children ain't a routine shift that'll cheer my ass up!”

For a brief moment Spock looks slightly off balance, like this wasn't going as planned. Well, that makes two of them.

“Circumstances involved with handling the rescue and transport of the Colony Facility Compound V are not what I am referring to exclusively, although a correlation has been noted--”

“Oh, for Christ's sake, Spock!” Leonard marches his way over, already tired of being insulted and very much wanting to put his clothes on if this is how their encounter is going, unwilling to be deterred by the presence of one busy body Vulcan.

And Len thought Jim was frustrating.

Spock exhales forcefully enough it could be classified as a sigh, though Leonard knows he'd argue against that. “Your capabilities are still admirable and beyond Starfleet standards.”

“Well, thank god for that.”

“It is not the gratitude toward a religious deity you should give. Your own application of skills and experiences is what allows such highly satisfactory work ethics.”

“You're rambling, get to the point.” 

“You have not attended an evening of three dimensional chess in--”

“What does three layers of hell chess have to do with any of this?”

“--the last three point two weeks, nor any off duty bonding time within Jim's quarters despite the numerous attempts at a ‘movie night’. All recreational activities that have had senior officers present have also--”

“So, now I can't have any alone time?”

“--lacked your presence in the last four point seven weeks. Last night--”

“Is this about that damn karaoke shit Jim was pulling? Just because he managed to drag your ass into it doesn't mean you can go poutin’ at me! If you had a problem with--”

“--the first recreational gathering for the children would have normally fallen on a shift you had available, however, you switched scheduled shifts with Doctor M’Benga--”

“We pulled a lot of hours, Spock, you know this. Geoff was dead on his feet and I took his normal shift. I can do that--”

“--leading you to have worked two shifts in a direct succession with only a minimum break between the previous several, even after the emergency protocols had been subsided. In the last six weeks you have logged an average of thirteen point eight additional hours each week. There is sufficient evidence thus far to--”

“Oh, lordy.”

At this point Leonard refuses to waste any more of his breath and silently continues to dress himself. If a little more forceful than necessary. Spock keeps talking, he doesn't move or look away as Len slips on underwear and drops the towel. It is sometimes best, Leonard has learned through many a trial and error, to just let Spock carry on how he wants. The Vulcan is a stubborn asshole like that and Len does not have the energy to argue more than he already has. If Len blocks out the rambling, then no one can really fault him. 

And for a moment he understands how Jim feels during one of Len's tirades, but god forbid he ever tell the idiot that. 

Besides, he can feel the beginnings of a headache pulse in the back of his eyes. Whether the cause is dehydration, the weight of working so long and so much, or Spock forcing his observations onto him - well, Len hopes it's not because of the latter. He may be in a shit mood, but he still cares for his obnoxious boyfriends. 

Even if he is still getting used to calling them that.

Leonard is buttoning his pants and slipping on socks when the words _‘reassigned shifts’_ catch his attention. Not quite able to ignore all of it.

“What was that?” he asks, forced calm burning steady.

“I said,” Spock uncharacteristically hesitates a brief moment before going forth with confidence like he always does. “You will not need to attend your next two shifts, as they have been reassigned for you, and you are instead--”

He takes it back, this headache is definitely because of his nosy, controlling boyfriend. 

“Have you lost your desert dry, Vulcan mind?”

“--on emergency call, considering your declining state of well being--”

“Don't use my fucking health as an excuse to push me outta my own shifts! I'm fit as a goddamn fiddle! I have patients--”

“Patients that are in fully capable hands of the rest of the medical staff.”

Leonard immediately stands again, pacing. “What, I drop five percent in efficiency and suddenly I'm not fit for attending my own patients? I'm shit at a lot of things, Spock, but don't you dare tell me I'm bad at my job!”

With Leonard's accusing finger wagging at his direction, Spock must note of the not so underlying vehemence, of the high strung pitch full of shock or fury or hysteria, the white of his clenched knuckles. “I did no such thing. I reviewed the information and came a logical conclusion that would benefit all involved.”

The doctor stops cold, his heart clenched by the casual, caustic words. He isn't getting anywhere but being pushed back more and more.

Because this is what it is. He has a bad day, a bad week, a bad month, and they… they drop him? See through his shit and say, well he's fucked? Is this a warning? Telling him they don't need him? Don't want him? 

The logical solution is to let him go.

_If you can't handle the horses, get out of the barn, Leo, or they'll kick you out._

If Spock sees the logic of taking Leonard off duty, sees the _decrease in efficiency,_ then no doubt he's already brought it up to their dear Captain. And if Jim is letting his First Officer do all the talking, then he's clearly cleaned his hands of this mess. He has a starship to command, a transport of children to care for, higher ups to report to, and a healthy, fully efficient Vulcan at his side both on and off duty to help him through. 

Len is not even two months into this Jim and Spock and him deal, relationship, whatever, and he's already fucking up. Of course he is. That's what he does. That's what he always does.

He can't be a good boyfriend and now he can't even be a good CMO.

_Get your shit together, McCoy, or you're no good to anyone._

_You're already no good to them._

Leonard runs both hands into his hair, exhaling through clenched teeth. He drops his arms and takes a step away, gives them room to breathe. It shouldn't be this hard. Breathing. Reminding his heart and lungs to function.

Every time he argues with Spock the air gets tight and warm, charged with their disagreements and barely constrained desire to either punch each other or kiss. 

Right now? 

Right now, he would very much like to punch Spock. 

Or have Spock punch him. Get it done with. That would be less painful than all of this.

Right now, everything is still and heavy, uncomfortably on the edge of something breakable. In the back of his mind, Leonard remarks that he's probably the one breaking.

“A logical benefit, of course,” he concedes.

“Leonard... _Ashalik,_ if I may--” 

“No, no, you're right, you're always right,” and there's more bitterness in his tone than he expected, more bite than a defeated man like him should have. “Thanks for telling me.”

His feet carry him toward the door, powered by the need to escape the sudden suffocation. Spock’s voice follows after him, somewhere beyond the rushing blood in his ears, the pounding in his head. 

Leonard reaches the medbay doors, never breaking stride. He keeps his back straight and his pace even, quick, purposeful. The staff on duty pause, he barely hears Chapel call to him. 

“I'm on emergency call only, so someone better be dying if you knock on this door,” he is in the doorway of his office, facing out and surely painting quite a sight. Doctor McCoy in a pair of old jeans and Academy shirt. No shoes. Expression so stiff his staff waits on bated breath for him to crack, overflow, burst with that McCoy rage.

He doesn't. 

Spock is at the edge of medbay, carefully blank facade held in place. Leonard stares him down as Spock teeters on the outside with hands clenched beside him.

Good. His point got across. Whatever it was, it doesn't know. Just that he's bitter and hurt.

Without waiting for any confirmation, Len secludes himself in his office. He has the highest faith in his staff. So with that settled and his time suddenly free, Leonard does what he is surprised he didn't do sooner.

He grabs the bottle of whiskey from his locked desk. 

Getting absolutely shit faced is not the answer he is exactly looking for, not while technically being on call - very much doubting he'll be bothered, anyway, now or later - and especially not after being told he isn't fit for his job. But, goddammit, he needs to do something and with the one thing he needs being inaccessible, divulging in this vice is the most tempting solution he's got. Maybe not the most healthy or productive, but hell knows it's not the most self destructive he can do. 

Pouring into a tumbler halfway, Leonard sips a taste. It's warm on his tongue and sharp on the way down. Ice would make it more satisfying, but he's tasted worse and the heaviness in his gut keeps him rooted in his seat. 

It's above mediocre, but still not the best, not good enough - so yeah, he deserves this.

He deserves all of this because he doesn't deserve anything else, anything good.

*

_“Who will love you? Who will fight?”_

His voice scratches the air, the pressure from before now a dull ache behind his eyes as they blur. 

_“Who will fall far, far behind?”_

Leonard is three glasses in when he realizes he has not had anything to eat in awhile. Exactly when that last was cannot be accurately estimated because for several days he managed on replicated snacks and nutrient boosters. Any actual meal before the incident - well, he is only slightly ashamed by how much a couple of drinks are affecting him. He shouldn't even be tipsy yet here he is.

Still riding the residual waves of self pity and longing and annoyance, at this point he's not even sure if he's annoyed with Spock and Jim or at himself. Honestly, he has no right to be mad at them. Not their fault he's a piece of shit. 

Pathetic isn't a good look on anyone, least of all him.

Slumping forward and resting his warm face against the cool desk seems like the next best course of action. One may assume it would be getting up and going to the mess hall for some food, but they'd be wrong. With how heavy his body feels and how his stomach rolls at the thought of moving, let alone consuming something, Len doesn't think leaving this spot would be a good idea at all. A full night's sleep was supposed to help, but it seems not even that can make up for the well of neglect his body has been thrown down. 

The doctor in him says to sober up with one of his hidden hypos, used for just this occasion. To go eat something, anything.

He tells that part to shut up. 

That is actually what's been going through his head a lot lately. When he first agreed to try out this triad relationship thing and a voice whispered it wouldn't work. The words were an insistent, insidious message over and over. Rephrased and rehashed with the same lonely ache every time.

_It's not going to work,_ repeated itself enough, along with _you're going to fuck up_ and _you're a broken man with nothing to give them, nothing to offer but your skills and that's all you can do, all you can be for them, you're not a lover, not someone they want beside them, just someone they need on the ship, just a doctor…_

The usual bullshit that comes crawling out from the shadows when he's left alone with his thoughts for too long, when too much time has passed in contentment and happiness. 

See, that's the kicker - it's all him.

Len knows it's all him, not them. Not Jim trying to socialize him. Not Spock lessening his workload. The whisper in his ear is never them, just something that wants to sound like them, something persistent enough that when he starts to slip he's already falling. And no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, that voice always wins. 

The truth of the matter is clear: He's not good enough for them.

Leonard blinks the blurry wetness from his eyes, even more ashamed that he's sitting there wallowing while his staff works. Because despite the fatigue and the lack of sleep and the self loathing, he knows, deep down in his bones that he's a damn good doctor. 

While he sucks at being intimate and considerate, his skills in medicine will never fail him. At least, not if he can help it.

Mind made up, Leonard pushes himself back up and pulls a drawer open. Scattering some contents inside and shuffling them around, he searches for his cocktail hypos. It won't completely dissolve his intoxication away, but the hydration and boosts to liver and kidney metabolism help ease it quicker along. Certainly more direct than chugging liters of water. Though a couple of mints won't hurt either.

With a stab to his naked thigh done with, he also finally notices his crinkled shirt and lack of shoes. Remembering the scene he gave his staff earlier causes him to groan. God, the grape vine is going to be busy with that one. After switching into an extra pair of scrubs and slip-ons, Leonard already feels better. Not quite completely put together, still too tired for that, but better. Less likely to breakdown and start hurling equipment at the walls, and that counts for something. 

His encounters with Jim and Spock feel like days ago. 

He spends a few moments stretching himself out and debating on what to do next. He could watch from his office, turn on the transparency, but then folks would just shoot him glances as he sits there and scowls. He could actually do some work in here. There are still files to finish and reports to make, his autopsy notes... Or he could leave his office - walk on out there, pretend nothing ever happened, and either go to the mess hall for an early dinner or work in the medbay like always. 

God, this is starting to feel like his fights with Jocelyn.

When their arguments ended and he was left pacing the bedroom, the door shut closed and its resounding slam still echoing in the silence. He would stop whenever he thought he heard something, hold his breath and stare at the door, imagine where she was and what she was doing, preparing for the next round if she decided to barge in. Len’s whole body tense with anticipation and seething. He imagined himself slamming the door open and confronting her again, quietly opening it and ignoring her as he made himself dinner or walked out the door. 

All those scenarios his mind would spin when he just took his stash of whiskey and drank himself into a stupor. 

This reminds him of when their stiff coldness would spill over to the hospital and everyone waiting on bated breath for what they’d do next. All those eyes watching him, hungry for the next bit of gossip on the sordid doctor's failing marriage. 

He hated it. 

Hated working there and seeing Joce’s friends judge him, and Clay's sympathy when he was the one sleeping with Len’s wife, and feeling like he was stuck there forever to be a miserable-

Leonard takes a deep breath and reminds himself - this isn't like that. Nowhere close. This is different. 

The decision on what to do next is made for him when there's a knock on the door. 

“Chapel?” He asks upon seeing her.

“You're being requested upon, Len,” she says with a bit of dry humor in her tone, a smile threatening to show. 

Confused, Leonard peaks around her to see no emergency or angry boyfriends. “I...am?”

“Not by the Captain or Spock, no, we've been keeping them at bay, but--"

“Doctor McCoy!”

Before Leonard spots him, Sunyk is suddenly barrelling towards him, stopping right before he collides. Len sees the hesitation and vibrating excitement and doesn't think twice to open his arms out in encouragement. If the kid wants a hug, he’s gonna damn well get one. 

“Well, c'mon now, son. Don't keep me waiting.”

The force of a child bear hugging his legs nearly takes him down and his mind is momentarily reeling from the deja vu. It has been so long since he's hugged a child this small. With help from Christine he manages to stay standing.

“Sunyk!” Striding over is Doctor Dehner, a bit more out of sorts than he's used to seeing her. “Please don't run in the medbay."

“My apologies, Doctor Dehner,” Sunyk says, voice muffled by Leonard's scrubs. 

He can't help but chuckle at that, petting his hand through the child's soft black hair. “Hello Elizabeth.”

Shifting his head to look up at Leonard, Sunyk greets him again. “I was granted permission to visit my mother and seeing that she continues to be healing at a stable pace, I am requesting permission to visit you.”

“I told him earlier he could come by during the children's free time before dinner,” Elizabeth explains. “If permitted.”

A pair of dark, pleading eyes stare up at him and damn, who the hell is Leonard to deny that?

He sends a questioning look towards Chapel who shrugs back in return. “Got nothing dire to do. ICU patients are stable, nothing's coming in we can't handle, and you're on call for emergencies only.”

“Well, if it's okay with you…?” He asks Elizabeth.

“For the next two hours, that's fine,” she smooths down her Starfleet shirt and ties her hair back up. “If you wouldn't mind bringing him to the mess hall later?” At Len’s confirmation she gives a satisfied nod, “Good. Please behave for Doctor McCoy, Sunyk. If you need me for anything they can contact me right away.”

“Yes, Doctor Dehner!” Sunyk replies, having still not released Leonard from his grip.

With that done, Elizabeth departs back to the other children, most likely in the recreational room.

Sending a smile down to the adorably excited child, “Looks like I'm all yours until dinner, Sunny.”

It must take all of Sunyk’s Vulcan control not to give a big grin because Leonard swears the kid's face gives a weird twitch. “Would a tour of the medical facility be an acceptable use of our time?” 

“Have fun, Len,” Chapel says at that, patting his shoulder and leaving them to it. 

Well, he's only used to giving tours to newbies and the few interested diplomats they transport to and fro. Showing his pride and joy to a smart little Vulcan, on the other hand…

“You sure you don't wanna do anything more… I don't know, entertaining?” Sunyk's smile starts to waver and Leonard quickly adds, “Don't get me wrong, I'll be glad to do it if that's what you want. I know this place like the back of my hand with my eyes closed.”

“I do not--"

“Human phrasing."

“Ah, then, yes!” Sunyk nods his head vigorously. 

“Well, alrighty then. One in depth medbay tour from yours truly, it is. But uh... you're gonna have to let go of my legs first.”

“Yes, my apologies,” Sunyk pulls away with a flush of green at his cheeks, but when Leonard offers his hand he doesn't hesitate to grab hold.

His tiny grip is strong and firm, though his hand is very warm and soft. Not at all like Leonard's own - slightly rough and definitely cold, unafraid to dirty his hands and always having bad circulation. 

“That's alright. No need to apologize for your enthusiasm. It's kinda endearing,” he teases while giving the small hand a comforting squeeze.

“I am still endearing, then?” The only way to describe the expression on Sunyk's face - at the way his eyes crinkle in delight and his smile shows a bit more teeth - would be _cheeky_ , and Leonard barks out a surprised laugh.

“Yeah, son, I'd say you rightly are.” 

And Leonard lets all of his worries from the past several hours be easily, if momentarily, forgotten.

*

Christine had gotten the picture from Torres hours ago. They sent it right before alpha shift started, to the group communication log of the Enterprise's nursing staff.

It is actually a glorified chat room full of gossip, pictures, and requests to change shifts.

That one picture, however, was like a goldmine. Over the next couple hours other nurses sent varying messages of adoration and humor, heart and smiling emoticons, lines upon lines of screaming text. A few of the more creative ones even edited the picture - adding dog or dragon ears and a tail to their sleeping CMO, or cropping it down to only show Len’s sleeping face and tussled hair.

She saved that picture to her own PADD.

And, honestly, it's cute. Their perpetually grumpy chief sleeping on a cot, curled under a pile of blankets and around a Vulcan kid sitting prim and proper on his PADD. Holding onto Leonard's hand.

She, and many others, were still a bit doubtful of its authenticity. 

Until now. 

Now, she needs to play crowd control and keep the others on task, even if it isn't much, instead of taking pictures of Len strolling around medbay while holding hands with Sunyk and showing him various medical equipment. The chat room is surely blowing up right now and if these folks are as good at maintaining the grape vine as she knows they are, then over half the Enterprise will have seen pictures of this by dinner time.

And then? If Sunyk convinces Leonard to sit with him and eat dinner? Maybe with the other children around? By the start of gamma shift the whole ship will see this. 

Papa Lion Leo. Tired Dad Doctor. The amount of nicknames already circulating are going to triple. Some of the younger nurses are bringing back old Earth slang, too. She's seen _DILF_ and _Daddy_ posted in the chat before she put it on silent. 

She respects Leonard just a smidge too much as a boss and friend to be poking at that fire. Not that they or anyone else will get anywhere, of course. 

The few witnesses who had seen Jim kiss Leonard right here in medbay had been fast to spread word, to confirm what she knows plenty have bet credits on. Then, those present just a short while ago had added more from Leonard's aggravated scene - freshly showered, shoeless, and glaring hyposhots at Commander Spock.

What exactly is going on there, she is not entirely certain of, but what she does know is that all three are involved, the stakes are high, and Leonard is going to be pissed when he finds out about everyone betting on his love life.

Such is the small social limitation of living on a starship.

Christine notes the fourth or sixth lull in work, the others trying to inconspicuously watch as Leonard lifts Sunyk to sit on his shoulders to get a better view of the shelves. She hears a couple of nurses sigh and coo next to her. In the next moment, all of their PADDs ping with new messages and alerts - a new inventory list and monthly cleaning and stocking tasks to complete. 

They collectively start bustling about and Christine counts that as a win. Along with capturing a picture of Leonard laughing at something Sunyk said. She hasn't seen him this happy in weeks.

When a young nurse approaches the two of them, though, Christine notices a sudden shift. Leonard immediately stops smiling and puts on his professional front and Sunyk… does not seem delighted by the interruption at all. He straightens his posture and grips onto Leonard's hand that's keeping him steady. The small smile that was surely peeking out on his face is gone, smoothed down with the usual Vulcan blank stare. 

Except this one definitely has more heat to it.

The nurse scurries away soon enough, right to another who quietly admonishes her for breaking some sort of silent code, or interrupting the scene, or whatever they're calling this. Apparently that's a lesson learned for everyone. 

And on those two go - Sunyk asking questions and Leonard answering them. Until Len determines it is time for dinner.

“Will you join me?” Sunyk asks from where he sits on an unoccupied bed.

Christine pauses her work and looks up from her desk. She's been trying to get Leonard to eat a real meal for two weeks now. His snack stash diminishes every few days, but she hasn't seen him in the mess hall for longer. And when he walked out of his office she swore she smelled whiskey on his breath under the layer of mint and berry. Whatever is going on with him isn't good, and Christine knows as his friend she should push him to take better care of himself. But Leonard is a grown man, he is who he is, and she's never met a man more stubborn.

Well, maybe Captain Kirk and Mister Spock.

No wonder they're all on and off so frequently.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I'll eat dinner with y'all.”

Christine thinks she misheard him until she sees Sunyk hop down and grab ahold of Len’s hand again. A hint of satisfaction about him.

“Got everything covered here, boss, go have fun,” she smiles and winks at Leonard's half-hearted scowl as he's nearly dragged out the door by the Vulcan child that has clearly become attached.

“Oh, that was a good one!” someone says. 

Christine looks at the chat log as the new picture pops up - an animated one several seconds long that captures the moment Leonard starts to smile.

*

Sunyk cannot help but feel absolute delight at his success of persuading Doctor McCoy to join him for dinner. The personal tour of the medical bay was also certainly enjoyable, especially when the doctor explained the high quality surgical equipment and projected _proud content relaxed_ as Sunyk asked questions.

Doctor McCoy called his curiosity and quick thinking _brilliant._ He didn't talk down at Sunyk or disregard him or treat him any less than one would have an older Human teenager. No avoiding difficult subjects or topics that took longer to explain with every new word. 

It was refreshing. And Sunyk's side ached at the parallels that reminded him of his mother. He was certain she would like Doctor McCoy's company, too. When she woke up they should definitely meet.

Because she will wake up. Afterall, Doctor McCoy is highly skilled and _promised_. Doctors don't make promises they cannot keep. Just like Vulcans cannot lie.

It was rather concerning the first twenty minutes when the doctor left his office. His emotions felt sullen and dimmed, smokey like a fire burning something wrong. The doctor dragged his feet and slouched. Sunyk noticed that from the corner of his periphery every time he looked away. Doctor McCoy is most skilled at containing certain aspects of his emotions in order to consciously project what he wants, but that, too, seemed to slip.

Fortunately, with Sunyk's determination and keen observation, Doctor McCoy was soon distracted by his persistent quest for knowledge. And now, instead of being surrounded by his loud and overwhelming classmates during evening meal, he can focus on the soothing and comforting presence of the doctor.

After they check in with Doctor Dehner, who agrees with Doctor McCoy joining, Sunyk directs them towards a spot further away from the others. They were still discussing the intertwined history of modern medicine and herbology - a hobby Sunyk picked up from his mother's agricultural work. 

He offers to carry Sunyk's tray of food, but as appreciated the gesture, it is unfounded, since he is quite old enough to choose a nutritionally balanced meal and carry it. Though, he is a bit concerned about Doctor McCoy's choice in food.

“It’s pizza,” he says when they sit down. “And coffee.”

“That is not a nutritious meal, doctor!” 

He laughs at the claim, but Sunyk does not see what is humorous about it. Eating healthy is very important!

“Hey now, cut me some slack, Sunny. Look, I've put some veggies on it, see?” 

Sunyk scrutinizes the plate on the table. The pizza has what looks like cooked vegetables. But he is not entirely convinced.

“Why don't you try a bite?” Doctor McCoy asks, projecting _amused fond._

Sunyk blinks up at him and then back down at the pizza. From what he knows of this food, it contains cheese and requires eating with one's hands. “How?”

Doctor McCoy doesn't ask for elaboration or make a condescending remark like many of the Human children from back home have done. Instead he tells Sunyk to wait a moment before leaving the table. A few moments later he returns with a fork and knife - moving the cheese out of the way and putting some of the vegetables on the red sauce before cutting a piece. He then hands Sunyk the fork and looks at him expectantly.

“That...is very efficient, thank you, Doctor McCoy,” Sunyk says, gently grabbing onto the fork with no fear of brushing his hand with the doctor's and reading _pleased amused_ from him. If it appeases the good doctor and proves to Sunyk that the food is deliciously nutritious, then he cannot rightfully turn it down.

He does what he must and eats the pizza.

“Well?” Doctor McCoy asks, sipping his coffee. 

Sunyk chews and contemplates. Then, looks him in the eye and says, “Acceptable. May I have another, please?”

Doctor McCoy barks out a laugh. “Course you can, Sunny. Here lemme fix it up.”

Sunyk is only slightly ashamed to say he eats half a slice of pizza before semi-reluctantly declining more to finish his own dinner. Though he is also slightly embarrassed that Doctor McCoy had to wipe sauce from his face, like he is some uncoordinated child.

“It's not a problem, shortstack. I can easily get more pizza,” he brushes aside Sunyk's worries.

“But you must eat food as well,” Sunyk argues, witnessing him only eat two slices. The third is mutilated as Doctor McCoy had picked it apart for Sunyk's safe consumption.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, jeez you hound me more for it than Chapel,” he mutters, though no ill will is projected.

“Nurse Chapel has an exceptional level of dedication for her work, including keeping unwanted interruptions from your office."

“Does she, now?” Doctor McCoy asks, curiosity in his tone as he cuts another piece up for Sunyk.

“Indeed! I had only arrived near its conclusion, but she was quite skilled in rebutting Commander Spock's attempts at entering. I am not sure if that was an order or not,” Sunyk continued. 

It was a rather strange occurrence that had Doctor Dehner exuding _suspicious curious_ when they passed him in the hallway, Nurse Chapel a bundle of _worry annoyed determined_ when they arrived into medical bay. 

Or rather, Doctor Dehner running after Sunyk as he sped into medical bay. He was rather excited. 

Doctor McCoy sighs and suddenly is very _morose ashamed upset_ that Sunyk stumbles with what it is he said to cause this and how he can fix it.

“What I mean to say- That is, Nurse Chapel is very good and--"

“May I join you two?” 

Sunyk is saved from his floundering by the interruption of Lieutenant Uhura. 

Despite her question to join, she takes a seat anyway. And though Sunyk knows not to be invasive, he is curious and wants to help Doctor McCoy. The more people that bother him, the more annoyed or closed off he becomes, something the young Vulcan wishes to avoid. He enjoys when the good doctor is happy and laughing, so really, it is with right intentions that he reads the lieutenant. It is a pleasant surprise when he finds her to be _steady calm concerned,_ and while Doctor McCoy is a slight _suspicious,_ he is also not as upset as he was when the nurse interrupted them.

“Go right on ahead, then,” the doctor gestures to her even as she's seated next to him. There is a slight annoyance in his tone, but also a smile that starts to curl. Sunyk believes it is more playful than wanted to be known.

“Enjoying the local cuisine, Leonard?” Lieutenant Uhura asks, a tilt of her head as it is placed on her palm and her high ponytail cascades off from over her shoulder. 

Sunyk does not quite know what message she is sending, especially by using one’s first name so directly, but there is a playful tone to it. Doctor McCoy must know what she means because he rolls his eyes in that dramatic fashion of his and exhales a large huff. Sunyk has learned that the doctor tends to exaggerate these actions so that their usual negative connotations mean the opposite. 

“What, is it illegal for me to eat pizza?” Sunyk senses an illogical flare of indignation at the question that did not sound like a question at all. 

“Not at all,” and her voice continues to be soothing, near appeasing, “more a pleasant and wholly welcomed surprise.” A shift in her posture has Lieutenant Uhura placing her hand on Doctor Mccoy's arm, a physical touch that seems gentle in act and intention, but has the man almost jolting in shock. “It's good to see you here. With us. Eating dinner.”

Sunyk is beginning to suspect that an entire nonverbal conversation is happening between them. He knows that although humans are not generally telepathic, their use of tone, facial expressions, bodily postures, and past context known between them can all lend to something just as complicated. While he does not know what exactly is being alluded to, the young Vulcan can sense that despite Lieutenant Uhura's gentle, well meaning prodding, Doctor McCoy still reacts defensively.

He looks away from her and clears his throat. “Yeah, well, gotta eat sometime, I suppose…”

“Hope to see you out of your domain more often,” and when Lieutenant Uhura retracts her hand, the skittish doctor pulls his arm onto his lap.

Sunyk decides it is the best time to intervene, to save the man that is getting increasingly uncomfortable. “Doctor McCoy has been very busy. He works quite hard to ensure the health of everyone under his care.”

“Yes, he does,” she agrees, looking at Sunyk with a small smile. “And I, for one, am very grateful he is here with us. Though I am concerned,” she begins, her tone a more hushed sound even though the subject of their conversation is right next to her, “when he is so busy he tends to neglect his own health. That habit is not at all...agreeable, is it?”

Doctor McCoy sputters, but Sunyk understands.

“Of course not!”

“Which is why that as his friends, we ensure his health, too, right?”

“Sound logic, Lieutenant Uhura.” Sunyk turns to Doctor McCoy, who has yet to recover from his strange sputtering fit, and retracts their previous conversation, “The vegetables on your pizza are not a suitable nutrition for today's meal.”

“You heard him, Leonard, right from the mouths of babes.”

“Now, listen here, Nyota, don't you go startin’ on--”

“What about a salad?” She asks Sunyk.

“A wise choice. Doctor, you must consume a salad at once!”

“Perhaps a healthy liquid, not alcohol based, hmm?”

“Indeed, and at least one cup of hydrating fluids.”

Sunyk finds Lieutenant Uhura’s assistance greatly welcoming. He has only known the good doctor for a short time, so these habits are unknown to him, but not to the doctor's friends. This reminds Sunyk of Nurse Chapel and her worry, of Doctor Dehner and her suspicion. It would make sense that they also know of certain situations and habits that Sunyk is unaware of. Perhaps he should put more effort in his observations of Doctor McCoy in order to be more helpful. Maybe he will smile more, or give more warm hugs. 

That would be most agreeable.

*

Despite Nyota's sharp and well aimed words, Leonard actually enjoys his dinner. She's his friend, a trusted confidant, and someone who has never within reason held back what is on her mind, which means Leonard gets his fair share of tongue lashings, especially when he acts like a fool. So, really he ain't that surprised that she took the opportunity to corner him in the wide open. Nyota has always been rightfully clever like that.

What she says, both outright and between the lines, rings loud and clear. He knows. Leonard knows he's skipping meals and avoiding socializing and becoming a workaholic. Yeah, he knows, he's been down this road before, thanks. Nyota's prodding isn't exactly wanted, but he's competent enough to realize he may need it. The headache from earlier is gone, his chest feels lighter, his mood is better. It may be the atmosphere or the food or the company, but things are definitely better. 

For what feels like forever, Leonard finally feels better.

Later, when he's in a state of mind to reflect, Leonard will blame that good mood on what he does next. But right now he gives Sunyk the task of retrieving what he believes to be a suitably healthy and nutritious salad while Len turns to Nyota's less-than-convincing innocent expression.

“Alright, what's going on here?”

“What do you-?”

“C'mon now, Nyota. We both ain't dumb. I don't think the boys got you to check up on me, they'd march their sorry asses here themselves.”

“Leonard-”

“But I know that damned grape vine grows fast. So who was it? Probably Chapel, huh. I know she's got fingers all the gossip pies and y'all are tight as-”

“McCoy, you better stop now or I'll give this entire cafeteria something to gossip about, and I really do not want Christine biting my ear off tonight. Understand?” 

She sits with her spine straight and her head high. Leonard rarely hears Uhura threaten so bluntly, and that is when he knows he's crossed the line. Bringing Chapel into this - her and Nyota's relationship - that was low of him, real low. 

“You're right, you're right,” he concedes, deflating immediately. “I'm sorry, Ny. It's been a rough couple of days and with-”

“Weeks,” she says firmly, her tone sliding back down to gentle. “You've been looking pretty roughed up for weeks, Len.”

God, is he _that_ obvious? 

“That bad, huh?”

“You tell me. The isolation, the shorter fuse than usual, the extra hours - and yes, Christine told me about that one. She's worried, we all are. What's going on, Len?”

_Nothing_ , is on the tip of his tongue, is crowding his mouth to get out, though he knows it's far from the truth.

Nyota must read something in his face, she's good like that, “Don't you dare tell me there's nothing wrong.”

But there _isn't_ , he wants to argue. He has a fantastic job, wonderful friends, amazing boyfriends - there is literally nothing wrong with his life right now. Yet…

Why does he feel _wrong_? 

Oh, right. Because he is a mess of a human being and can't appreciate what he has, can't stop dwelling on what he lost, what he has failed to save, can't sleep without their faces, their voices haunting him.

God, Leo, just _stop-_

“Leonard,” Nyota says, so very gently he cannot help but look up from his worrying hands to her face, her perfectly shaped brows furrowed, her glossed lips frowning. Her soft, warm hands encompass his and he vaguely realizes how cold his own are. “Leonard, have you talked with Elizabeth at all?”

“All the time,” he replies, staring back down at their hands. 

“I mean, about…about this? Not about work or the kids, but about you?”

Why should he talk to Elizabeth about _himself_?

She reads his face again because she sighs a moment later and squeezes his hands. “Len, maybe talking will help.”

“Talkin’ with you.”

“Talk with someone who knows more about this than me.”

“How hard was that to admit?” he jokes, desperately wanting to dispel this intimate scene, even though he is soaking up every moment. 

“Very,” she says deadpanned and they quietly chuckle at that. “But seriously, talk to her.”

Leonard takes a deep breath and squeezes her hands before pulling his away, already missing the warmth. He finally looks up at her again and sees the concern shining in her dark eyes, sees the sincerity and encouragement.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly, “I'll think about it.”

She smiles with a nod, turning back to her plate just as Sunyk joins them again.

“I have put together the best combination of ingredients for a healthy salad,” the young Vulcan announces, pushing the plate in front of Leonard. “You must consume every bite.”

“You heard him, Len,” Nyota says, humor in her voice and her entire posture more relaxed than it had been minutes ago, before their talk. She hands him the folk, “Every bite.”

*

After dinner, after Nyota takes her leave, after Sunyk checks back in with Doctor Dehner - and Leonard hesitates, questions, determines he will talk to her _later_ \- he sits in his office. The transparency walls are down so he has full view of the medical bay and the slow beginnings of gamma. 

He has yet to be disturbed with any work, his staff completely efficient on their own. M'Benga had finalized and sent the remaining autopsy reports, spending a few more moments than usual with the handoff. Leonard knew when he was being medically examined at a glance, had seen the look on doctors’ faces since he was old enough to recognize it on his own Pa, and he couldn't hold it against Geoff. The hours he spent in that cold room weighing tiny hearts made his own ache even now.

But he had to do it, it had to be him. 

Leonard often wonders how his father dealt with the job, the house calls that did not end well, the ones that David McCoy knew the ending of going in. Oh, there was the drink, of course. His father was a whiskey man, too. He had his bottles in his study where he sat sometimes after coming home, the door closed as a clear sign not to be disturbed. Then, later in the morning he would always come out from the bedroom, refreshed and not as weighed down. 

Of course, that was when Eleanor was still alive. Leonard likes to believe that his parents’ love and support for each other got David through his hard nights, helped Eleanor through her black dog days. It was a marriage, a partnership and unity he had strived to replicate when he was younger, naive about the hard work it takes to keep those unions together. 

After his mother's death they both changed. 

Leonard was a hurt and angry teenager, feeling so alone in the world. And David must have felt that a hundred times over. His wife was gone. His partner in life had crossed over without him, leaving him behind to raise their angry, smart young man. David must have felt so much. Len can remember the nights he went into his study and came out the same door the next morning. It took weeks for David to walk into his bedroom again, before that he forbade Leonard to go in as well. 

That didn't stop Len, of course. Everything in their home reminded him of his mother, but there was a cathartic kind of sadness that washed through him when he disobeyed his father and opened that bedroom door. Seeing his mother's hairbrush, her jewelry box, her slippers - all of the small everyday items she would never use again. It was what finally pushed Len to go into the music room, where all her instruments lay, collecting dust because Leonard couldn't bare to touch them, let alone play them again. 

That was where he broke down. Where he let it all out, where he picked himself back up and felt new again, older.

Even as Len grew up, his father never wanted to discuss what he went through during that time. However, after the service he started allowing Len with on certain house calls, told him to stay when it was time to help the patient let go. 

Leonard's first real taste of alcohol was after his first euthanasia. David motioned him into his study, patted the seat next to his own, and poured two glasses. They didn't speak, just sat there in silence, until-

“Doctor McCoy?”

At the interruption, Leonard jolts himself out of memory lane. He blinks the image of his father's aging face away and sees Sunyk at the door, waves him in. “Hey there, kiddo, aren't you supposed to be in bed?”

The child scampers inside, already wearing his pajamas. “Yes, but…” Sunyk stands in front of the desk and though Leonard cannot fully see him from over it, he can tell the child is fidgeting, is nervous.

Leonard thought they'd gotten over the jitters.

“Well c'mon, Sunny, can't be that bad.”

“Would it be...acceptable if you…”

“Yes?” 

Sunyk mutters.

“What was that?”

He mutters again, his face flushing green.

Leonard huffs quietly to himself and bites back a smile. “Gonna have to speak up, kiddo.”

Sunyk takes a deep breath and tries again, “Will you sing me a lullaby, please?”

The poor kid looks so mortified Len has to bite his cheek from laughing. He's sure that would not be taken well, but goddamnit this is just the cutest thing.

“Sure thing, Sunny,” he motions the kid over and that is all it takes for Sunyk to barrel over. Len pulls the small bench over to prop his feet and barely has enough time to settle before the little one curls up on his lap. 

Like a kitten, Leonard thinks.

“Comfortable?” he asks, setting his arm around the small child for extra warmth and support. He tries to project as much calm and positive emotions as possible, despite the lingering melancholy from before. 

He gets a confirmed murmur in reply and really, it is no surprise to him the words that come out. They had been repeating themselves all day, and he finally recalls their significance.

_“Come on skinny love, just last the year…”_

His father never cared much for music. That was more his mother's thing. Oh sure, David listened to the radio and had certain frequencies and tunes he enjoyed, but he never went out of his way to learn about any of it. He just sat back and took pleasure in his company. 

_“Pour a little salt, we were never here…”_

David loved watching Eleanor play, listening to her stringwork echo through the instrument room, the living room, the back porch. Wherever she played he would be there, soaking up her presence, her love of the music. It was calmest Leonard ever saw his father.

_“I tell my love to wreck it all...”_

There were a few songs he would join in on. David would provide the rolling vocals, too low for Eleanor or young Leo to hit. But she didn't seem to mind, because Leonard would watch them and see how her smile widened every time David sang, every time he taught young Leo.

_“Cut out all the ropes and let me fall…”_

After weeks had passed since her burial, the night of Leonard's first house call euthanasia, that was when David sung again. In the dimly lit study, sharing a drink with his son, his own voice rough and cracked, but still rolling, still soothing to Leo's aching soul.

_“I told you to be patient, I told you to be fine…”_

David would hum it sometimes. During the drive to or from houses, while he wrote at his desk, while he cooked breakfast. He never seemed to notice. Len always thought it was just the way his heart cried out.

_“I told you to be balanced, I told you to be kind...”_

In later years, when sickness claimed him and he laid prone in bed, David McCoy barely had enough energy in him to speak let alone sing or hum. He tried, sometimes. And when Leonard told him to stop, to save his breath, David would get the saddest look in his old eyes and say, _‘How else is she suppose to hear me, Leo?’_

_“In the morning I'll be with you, but it will be a different kind…”_

And Leonard did the only thing he knew, when his father was in so much pain he shouldn't move but insisted on trying anyway - Leonard upped David's morphine dose, got his old acoustic from the music room, and sang.

_“Come on skinny love, what happened here...”_

Every night he would sing for his father, he would hum when preparing the medications or making the nutrient rich gruel or ensuring David was comfortable. After awhile, Leonard found himself humming it at work, at home, on repeat over and over again as the days and nights passed in a haze. Even now, Leonard has a hard time recounting what happened aside from caring for his father and Joanna.

_“Sullen load is full, so slow on the split…”_

The last time Leonard sang this song was the last time David McCoy heard it, the last time Leonard tended to him, as he drew David's last hypo and applied it into the line, their last moments together, the last time his father would ever have to suffer.

_“Now all your love is wasted, then who the hell was I...”_

Leonard remembers the lyrics are particularly bad days. It had been on repeat when his and Joce's marriage was on the rocks, when it fizzled and flared and went out like a light. That was when he really paid attention to the words, when he hung onto every one and wondered why his parents adored it so.

_“Now I'm breaking at the britches, and at the end of all your lines…”_

It holds nothing but heartbreak, he thinks. Bittersweet emotions of giving too much, taking too much, but never having enough. But it is also a classic his mother loved and his father cherished, so Leonard held on. He kept it safe and close. He can't let it go, no matter what drags it down.

_“Who will love you? Who will fight? Who will fall far behind?”_

Maybe, Leonard thinks as he realizes the quiet around him, maybe he should hold on a little longer.

As the silent moments pass, Len slowly eases himself out of the chair, carefully settling Sunyk in his arms. He carries the sleeping child to the barracks and tucks him in nice and snug before laying down on his own cot. Sleep does not come easy as he thinks about what he will say to Jim and Spock, what he will request of from Doctor Dehner. 

The night passes slowly and Leonard does not realize the absolute madhouse he caused for his staff, the pictures that they took, the videos already shared across the entire Enterprise.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know when updates will be, sorry. (but fear not they will come).
> 
> Check out at cannotgiveafuck tumblr for more content or me bemoaning the writing process. But also bc my own [ prompt ](http://cannotgiveafuck.tumblr.com/post/165988602035/imagine-bones-sitting-back-in-medbay-with-a-small) pushed me to write this.


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